


Fire Crackler

by electrickster



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Nostalgia, Snowdin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 10:30:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5663050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electrickster/pseuds/electrickster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grillby reminisces about his past and sings the song of his people.  Only Sans hears him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire Crackler

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to make Grillby's past as vague as possible to satisfy as many of your headcanons as possible. You're welcome.
> 
> I love dogs.

Grillby was quite literally out of his element.

Snowdin was, at first, an unforgiving town, what with the blizzards and grueling snowstorms that made his face crawl and his skin hiss with blinding pain.

But he was dead-set on making at least one part of the world a better place, and this would be the place. Unlike his old home, it would turn into a safe haven, a friendly little place where monsters could rest and get to know one another better. Grillby was sure of it.

He knew better than to stir up conflict; that had made Hotland unsafe for both him and his family. His family...no, he would see them all again soon.

But first, his dream. Starting a business would seem counterproductive to someone who needed to lay low, but he was certain the monsters who visited his establishment would protect him, give him a good name.

And he was right. 

Grillby's became _the_ spot to hang out in Snowdin, and was more than popular with all of the dogs. Soon after, his best customer to-be moved in, and brought the entire world of what was unexpected crashing down on Grillby. In a good way.

A loud fellow who loved nothing more than good ketchup and bad puns, Grillby found Sans to be the good side of eccentric. He was nice to listen to; talking wasn't Grillby's strong suit. His mere presence also attracted customers and was known as the life of the party, despite being a skeleton. But still...

Grillby closed his eyes-- not that it was noticeable behind his glasses, anyway-- and heard his family's screams-- no, those were just Doggo, Dogamy, and Dogaressa in a howling contest again. It was strange, at first. The fire monster seldom spoke, but gathered his courage to ask, "Why are you doing that?"

Immediately, the dogs had stopped their howling, and told him in what was scarily close to an eerie unison, "We are singing the song of our people."

Grillby had flickered for a moment. Seldom had it occurred to him to sing in Snowdin because he was contented, afraid, sad, or reminiscent. These dogs were intriguing. "Please, continue," He had said.

Now, they were at it again, and Grillby flickered much lower than he ever had before. He didn't even hear the cheering of "Sansy's back!" and the joyful chorus that greeted him. He just stared numbly at the glass he was washing and the orange light that he cast upon it.

Grillby didn’t even move as Sans ambled up to the bar, ordering his usual burger. The glass in his hands trembled, and the dogs howling had taken to sounding very much like his own people, crackling—

Birthday crackling, crackling for the living, crackling for the dead, crackling for the barrier to be broken, crackling for love, crackling for remembrance…Grillby could remember it all.

Grillby set the glass down, not registering Sans’s puzzled, then worried expression.

He stared down at his cuff links, a gift. A gift from someone he might never see again.

Almost without realizing it, his flame lowered to almost nothing, giving him the appearance of a humanoid orange. He began to crackle, the quiet noise very nearly drowned out in the cacophony of dogsong.

It rose, it fell, it grew louder, it grew quieter. Grillby thought of nothing but of his past, his family, Snowdin, the friends he’d made, the trouble he was in, all of it expressed in his heartfelt crackling and hissing. His flames grew back to their normal size, but his eyes remained closed. He could no longer hear the dogs howling, but his tuneless song, his heart beating, his quiet little earthquake. It was all his. And no one could take it from him.

Grillby opened his eyes. The restaurant was full of life, people chattering away, no one asking him for a refill or anything. That was a relief.

“hey, i don’t mean to get _up in your grill_ , but…” 

Grillby looked towards the voice, which was very nearly right in front of him. A fierce yellow heat crashed into his face. “Ah-! Sans! I didn’t mean to ignore you at all and I didn’t even hear you come in.” He ran a hand through the flames on the top of his head in mild embarrassment at neglecting his best customer. “What can I get you?”

“that was a really beautiful song.” Sans propped his head on one elbow, thoroughly enraptured by Grillby’s crackling. “what were you singing about in your language?”

Another fierce wave of yellow surged into Grillby’s face. “Well….uh…”

Talking really wasn’t Grillby’s strong suit.

“it was very _hearth_ -felt.” The old, familiar twinkle in Sans’s eye socket returned.

This got Grillby to smile a little bit, and he knew the skeleton monster could tell. Sans smiled back, giving Grillby a friendly punch on the arm. “whatever’s bothering you, you can tell me, okay, hot stuff?” Sans winked.

Yet another, white-hot flush covered Grillby’s face at the double-entendre’d pun, but he nodded. “Of course. Now what would you like?” He asked with a slightly shaking voice, deftly avoiding the question. 

Sans ordered a burger with plenty of ketchup this time—of course.

Now was not the time to tell—it would ruin everything. Even so, he didn’t stop thinking about the conversation for the rest of the night, as he took orders, cooked, refilled drinks (eek!) , added yet another bill to Sans’s endless tab. No one had ever complimented Grillby on his crackling voice, or even picked up on the nuances in such which represented his emotions.

But he knew. He knew, someday, he would explain everything to Sans.

Somehow, he knew everything was going to be okay.


End file.
